Bonding
by eureka93
Summary: Ghirahim was never created for his sword. He endured it. A darker beginning for a demon turned sword spirit.


**Author's Notes: Look! A oneshot! 8D Enjoy my attempt to create a slightly darker fic of my favorite Demon Lord. (Warning: This does have some torture, but nothing over the top. o_o')**

**And a thanks goes out to my best friend DragonEye0905 for being my beta and helping me give the rating.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Legend of Zelda.**

* * *

"Will you serve your King and accept the task when others before you have failed?"

"I will fulfill all that you ask of me."

Ghirahim stood before the Demon King, Demise, alone in his throne room. He was summoned before the ruler, a great and terrifying privilege among all the demons and monsters, to undergo some kind of rigorous trial. He was informed if he succeeded, it would lead to great honor and advanced ranking in His Majesty's army.

Ghirahim already deemed high regards in battles fought against the followers of light, and now also held a source of pride from besting the other demons without so much as a scratch to gain such an opportunity to aid his king.

The Demon King retrieved an object from a nearby dais. Ghirahim could see him marvel at the item before presenting it to him. When Demise did turn, the demon could only stare in awe.

A sword that was bigger than Ghirahim was held out. The entire weapon seemed to be made of a dark metal. Its edgse seemed like three razor sharp diamonds had been placed on top of one another. An image of the coveted Triforce was engraved on the blade, facing the opposite direction from Hylia's sword. The guard reminded him of unfurled black wings, and a gem embedded between those wings showed no color, obscured from any hue. Lastly, the pommel appeared to be an onyx diamond, sure to inflict major damage if used in a melee strike.

Truly a beautiful work of deadly art.

Demise broke Ghirahim's admiration with his deep, gruff voice. "This blade will ensure my victory against the Goddess. I crafted it myself. At this moment, it is not complete. It calls for a soul strong enough to fuel power it is to possess. That is why you are here."

His voice was sure, and he spoke with upmost loyalty. "I would gladly give my life if that is what you need, Master."

Demise grunted and smirked. "It is not your life that I want."

The dark king began walking through the tower, with his puzzled lesser trailing after. They descended to a lower level till the king stopped at a metal door and opened it.

It was an empty chamber, but he could tell it had been cleared out for this purpose. All that remained were the cracks in the grey rock walls. The only light came from Demise's fiery hair. It could be labeled as a prison if it wasn't already one, but there were no shackles or bars.

Demise walked in, and Ghirahim followed.

"Stand here," he commanded.

Obediently, Ghirahim took his place in front of Demise and looked up to his respected leader. Demise lifted his scaled hand in front of Ghirahim. Ghirahim was confused until his breath caught in his throat and Ghirahim realized he couldn't move. His arms slowly moved out from his body, and when Demise began to move his hand up, Ghirahim was lifted off the ground as well. It was a powerless feeling.

Demise tightened his hand on the sword, and raised it to meet Ghirahim's chest. "Twenty-four hours. During that time, your body with adapt to this blade, becoming one with it. You will become the inhabitant of this sword and your body will be its sheath."

The sword started to glow orange in color, and as soon as the tip touched Ghirahim's skin, he hissed at the hot metal. Demise ignored this and began forcing the weapon into the demon's torso.

Ghirahim was only able to hold back his pained cry for a few seconds before it filled the room. He clenched his fists until his nails were drawing traces of black lifeblood. Not even half the blade was inside him and he'd never experienced this degree of agony in the past. Through his servant's hitched shrieks, Demise did not falter.

After another torturing minute, the sword was finally embedded inside him. Demise dropped Ghirahim's limp body to the ground. "I'll return in twenty-four hours to see if you survived." And then he walked out the door without another word, taking the light with him.

* * *

Ghirahim didn't want to show himself pathetic in front of his master, but now alone, he finally let go of the tears he'd somehow been able to hold back. Shame of such weakness didn't register to him.

He curled up on the cold floor as if shielding himself. It didn't work. The pain had started in his chest, but gradually spread throughout the rest of his body in the same intense degree.

Where the weapon had entered his chest, there wasn't even a scratch, but inside, every muscle fiber felt like they were a battleground for reckless male lizalfos seeking role of alpha.

For hours, it felt like all he did was scream till his throat was raw. Ghirahim's chest cavity racked with coughing fits. His former slow-beating heart currently racing. One would have thought him to be possessed.

The burning of the transformation attacked every nerve inside him. Muscle spasms felt like heated daggers being driven into his frame. Even the smallest of flinches took its toll.

Even in the dark, his heightened eyesight allowed him to see that his unmarred grey skin was darkening.

He struggled to stand, and barely succeeded in using the wall as support. Ghirahim wasn't, however, able to take a step without collapsing. Using his fists, he pounded the floor with all the strength he could muster in an attempt to divert focus to one point in his body.

Still, it felt as if all four elements were hammering him at the exact same time.

Ghirahim's body burned with overwhelming heat. Fire.

He felt like he as sinking into darkness. Water.

Invisible boulders were thrown against him. Earth.

Suffocation. Air.

He rolled over onto his back and blinked hard. His vision kept blurring. Sometimes, he thought he would go blind. When he tried to focus, black blood seeped through the ceiling and down the walls. He saw the gore seem to form the cursed mark of his clan's hated enemy, the Sheikah. Those eyes shedding their mocking tears at his anguish.

He held his hands over his eyes and roared at the delusions to go away.

At times, Ghirahim would pass out, only to awake again from the relentless torment. It was a repeated cycle of coming back to reality, screaming and gnashing of his senses, till fainting all over again.

He woke up again. He'd didn't bother keeping count how many times it made, but this time, the agony was actually beginning to diminish. Ghirahim could now focus more clearly and looked down at his new body.

The same dark metal of the sword was now his flesh, making it harder than any steel or armor he knew to exist. Beautiful white patterns of diamonds also displayed his distinct appearance. The colorless gemstone from the sword could be located in his upper body. Ghirahim's muscular build took over his former lean demonic form. He touched his previously deformed ear and smiled a fanged smile. The transformation not only changed him, but perfected him.

He sighed with relief. The worst was over. All the pain now seemed to be annoying stings. Ghirahim's body gave the impression of being very powerful, but he himself felt depleted of energy. At least now he could truly sleep. He didn't know if the twenty-four hours were completely up, nor did he care. He closed his eyes, this time embracing the welcoming comfort of darkness.

* * *

There was the sound of a door creaking opening. Light entered the room once again, followed closely by heavy footsteps. Red eyes searched the area, and Demise saw the usual dark form of an inferior slumped over on the floor.

Demise had returned to check if his follower had survived the conversion or died like the previous ones that were too weak to carry out their purpose.

"Are you dead?"

He waited, but there came no response. Another failure.

Demise turned to leave the room, but was stopped by the sound of metal clanking against the stone floor. There was a brief pause, and then the sound continued.

The Demon King glanced towards were the figure arose. A new demon. No. _His_ sword spirit stood tall before him, watching him with pure snow-white eyes that looked as if they glowed in the shadows.

The new creature bowed before his king, and with a metallic-like voice, he said, "I am your loyal servant, as well as your weapon. And I will fulfill all that you ask of me."

The bonding was complete. The colorless gem set in in his chest now shone of a vivid shade of red.

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**A/N: So…I hope this was a decent read. o_o' And I hope the rating is right. I tried to decide between T and M, as I thought it could vary between the two. Let me know what you people think. It helps fuel inspiration and I get an idea how and/or what to write next. Thank you, readers. :3  
And if you've not checked it out yet, please take a look at my current story in progress, "Bittersweet."**


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